


Home for the Holidays

by Recidivist



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, I'm late with this but okay, Nicknames, No Dialogue, POV Second Person, Short, Time Shenanigans, for Everyone else, not that romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recidivist/pseuds/Recidivist
Summary: Every year was the same.Come Christmas Morning, you‘d always find unexpected visitors at your door. Though they were strangers, you always welcomed them the same. They weren‘t always so friendly, nor did they always behave the same. Sometimes, they never came at all. Regardless, you loved them anyways.If only they too, could remember your face as well as you theirs.





	Home for the Holidays

Five fourty-five a.m. Most the sane populous would be sleeping at this time, but not you. Anticipation kept you wide and aware of every little noise, your ears straining for that now familiar knock. The couch you sat on was worn, the fluff now uncomfortable and flat. You refused to leave your post though. A whole year had gone by waiting for this moment. You are not going to miss it, no matter what. Then there it was, a shy little ‚tap-tap‘ at the door. Tossing aside your blanket, you jumped up and ran to the source. Right on time, a confident solid ‚knock‘ echoed in time with your clock. Six o‘clock a.m. Your door creaked open. No matter how tired you were, it couldn‘t stop a smile from tugging at your lips. The sight of huge inhuman beings at your doorstep no longer surprised you as much as it first had. Now it only carries with it warm nostalgia. Like every year, a particular family led the forefront. Walking away from their mother‘s protective grasp, a child almost as tall as you held out a hand. The other flew through several motions, once incomprehensible to you. Honestly, they still were, but the familiarity made it easier to ‚decode‘. Meeting their hand with your own, you cheered, „Nice to meet’cha Frisk~!“

Seeing no signs of aggressiveness, the kid‘s entourage mostly calmed down. Three kept their guard up, but you couldn‘t blame them. Had you not known them as long as you had, you might‘ve not even noticed. The fish, the blue skeleton, and the blonde goat. Same as the last few times. For some reason, the parade of monsters before you were usually the ones to greet you. However, despite relaxing, nobody else could gather the courage to move. It was nothing new. Brushing aside the sting of hurt, you turned to wave them in. „Why don‘t you guys join me? I was thinking of inviting someone over for breakfast. This saves me the trouble of finding them.“ Your words were awkward, but rehearsed. Sadly, your social skills never improved in those years...At least you‘re trying.

Glancing at each other, the monsters seemed to have a silent discussion amongst themselves. Knowing not to interrupt, you left the door wide open and wandered into the kitchen. The place was a mess with the sink overflowing and the counters covered with sealed dishes. With a trained poise, you balanced three dishes atop one another and began carrying towards the dining room. The whole room was filled with chairs of varying types and a single table. Placing them down, you arranged it for best ease of access. Satisfied, you mentally began timing yourself as you left to retrieve the rest. Fifteen minutes later, and the taller skeleton joined you. He was sweating slightly and couldn‘t quite meet your eyes. Time for your secret weapon! Only a few dishes remained in your kitchen, but the one you sought was out of sight. Bending over, you grabbed the spaghetti casserole out of the oven. Turning, you offered it up to the orange monster, internally preening at the awed sparkles. He accepted the heavy dish with vigor and gave you a hug. You returned it, happy that this iteration still appreciated the wonders of Italian. Together, you went to drag everyone to your dining room. Left untouched in the oven were three other trays, which you resolved to take care of later.

When everyone had their own chairs, you beamed in pride at the mix of shock and hunger in their eyes. Thankfully, it wasn‘t the starved empty glares drained of life a few years ago. All of them must‘ve felt so out of place. You could hear them talking, but the only noise that came out was an odd little note, unique to each monster. It seemed you still had the joys of a language barrier. Thats fine, you’re pretty sure your talking skills were unimpressive anyways. Keeping yourself well within field of vision, you lifted the lid off of the first pot. The aroma of a simple stew drifted about. Three bowls were prepared. Eyes down, you offered the bowls to the three adorned in purple- the goats and Frisk. Hesitantly, they each accepted it. While Frisk was happy enough to dig in, their parents were less so. In hopes of easing them, you distributed some of the same soup into your own bowl and downed it. Unfortunately, fish lady seemed to take this as a challenge if her sudden battle stance were anything to go by. Bone buddy tried to prevent her from suplexing that pot into her mouth, but got convinced to do the same with the macaroni salad. Golden Godzilla temporarily got over her shyness and was now taking photos of fish lady with a bright red blush. Astro boy seemed to find this peak entertainment if his camera and narrating were anything to go by. Finally, the blue skeleton laid asleep on the table, a small pile of hot dogs covering him from head to toe.

It was a mess unique to them, but you wouldn‘t exchange it for the world. Already full from your single bowl of broth, you meandered to the adjacent room. Glass doors segregated the two, but you always left them ajar. Since only you permanently resided there, there was no need to close any doors. With little better to do now that the guests are fed, you took out a small notebook from one of your bookshelves. The pages were thin and cheap, filled with your signature scrawl that even you could hardly read. However, there remained several hundred still blank- a necessity for the sheer number of times you‘ve gone through this. On its front laid the current date in fine white script. Flipping through the book, you landed on the boundary between used and new pages. Conjuring a pen, you began with the newest page: „Year 37:“. You paused in thought. You always had trouble giving name to these different years. Often, you just based it on how your visitors behaved...Shrugging you flipped through the pages for inspiration.

„Year 35: Emaciation“ That was a baad year. Had you not frozen them...A shudder ran down your spine as you reminisced. Sometimes the bite marks still ached.

„29: Sole Survivor...“ An embarrassment filled time. You were able to understand blue -er, gold bones back then. Introduced himself as G. He was the only one to arrive. G wouldn’t talk much about the Underground, but you get the feeling it was lonely. The guy was so charming, it was unreal. Reading the words at the bottom, you blushed. In script so perfect it looked typed was a note from him. „nice diary kitten.“ How‘d you miss that!? ...And why did he write it in today‘s journal instead of January‘s? Its not as though any of the three hundred plus notebooks were secret. Heck, you left them all out in the living room for all to see. Then again, nobody else payed attention to the shelf. Setting aside the thought for later, you moved on.

„21: Anger issues“ The days of the edge lords. Every last person was decked out with black and spikes. Frankly, the only one you got along well with besides the residential human was the purple fireman. It was only thanks to his and goat mothers efforts that things remained civil.

„18: Fish“ Mixed feelings exist for this year. On one hand, the enthusiasm made it hard to be bored, on the other, a living being can only handle being suplexed so many times before brain damage occurred.

„12: Allergy Season“ The monsters of that year were also covered with reds and blacks. However, they proved polite, and seemed in mourning. The goldenrods you grew were met with mixed feelings. Big kingly guy was strangely appreciative of them. His feminine half, not so much. It took a flower Encyclopedia, a fire hose, a crap-ton of glitter (to insecto-bot’s pleasure), and six hours locked in the attic until she calmed down. In the end, they (except the king) all took great efforts to avoid flowers.

„6:Close but No Banana...“ What kind of title was this? Judging from the cookie crumbs littering the page, you were likely on a high on something when you wrote it. Probably happiness- before these yearly visits, you were kind of coasting on life and didn‘t really care about much. This particular year was much more cheerful than any other. Everyone‘s personality had switched around, but oddly they were even happier that way.

„3: D.S. al Coda“ Haha! Inspiration! This iteration was more musical based, but at its heart was near identical to the first few round of visits-much like this round‘s turning out to be. Eagerly, you moved to the front page where your little table of contents lied to add „Year 37: Back to Basics“ only to freeze afterwords.

That. That was pretty stupid of you. Solemnly, today's journal was shut and set aside onto an empty table. Blank eyes stared morosely into the fireplace as you mentally berated yourself. Of course you kept a table of contents-finding your references would be an absolute nightmare otherwise! You could vaguely feel a hand pat mockingly at your back, but you waved him off. If he can‘t show his face, you‘d rather he go off and heal instead. Heaven knows this is partially his fault. Both his and your mentor‘s really. An ink-splattered hand rubbed at the heart shaped jewel on your wrist. Violet waves gently pulsed, but you quelled it down. Again, that mocking hand feigned comfort, covering over your own. Before you could react to it, a warmer palm landed on yours, erasing the presence of the other. Its partner caressed your cheek, reawakening memories long since passed. You leaned into it, comforted by the familiarity. All too soon, its owner backed off, pinpricks of light near absent as he gazed in confusion. Your fantasy was instantly broken by it. How could you have forgotten already? What you had... just isn’t here anymore.

Skull dyed slightly of blue, the skeleton nervously pointed at his palm. Part of his carpels were covered in purple-black, the same color as your ink. Gently touching your cheek, you grimaced. It seemed you tapped the open side of your pen against your face again. Taking your sleeve, you rubbed away at the spot, noting how the noise level was now near silent. Twisting around the couch you sat at, you saw most the monsters acting innocent. Too innocent. Narrowing your eyes at the whispering fish and lizard, you inwardly cursed. It was hardly even two hours, how were they already shipping again!? You swear they get faster and faster each year. Imploringly, you directed your gaze to Frisk for help. To your horror, they resorted to making kissy faces at you with all sorts of lovey dovey signs. Betrayal of the highest degree!

You swooned off the couch in despair, fully expecting the welcoming embrace of your floor. To your audience‘s delight, that embrace ended up being a particular skeleton‘s arms. He seemed to have reacted instinctively from his lightless look. What was a light cyan blush ended up exploding into full royal blue before ‚poof‘, the guy disappeared. The subsequent crash with gravity‘s assistance did nothing to distract from what you swore was voracious laughter. Thankfully, there was one gentleman amongst the peanut gallery. Gallantly, the tall skeleton hefted you up from the grasp of defeat! Sure it was by carrying you like a football, but you‘ll take what you can get. Sending the most mature of gestures, an elegant saliva filled raspberry towards the traitor, you pointed onward! To the game room!

The game room was not so much a game room as a library, but all those ancient texts and manuals weren't your style. Those were your mentor‘s stuff. Now that your mentor isn't exactly around however, you added a much needed entertainment center. Next to it was a tree adorned in magical lights and ornaments. At the top, Batman stood proudly. What a perfect little angel substitute...Not for the first time, you wonder why one of the loops felt the need to desecrate your Christmas toppers. Like his shorter counterpart, your tall friend found this opportune time to leave you to gravity‘s mercy. Both his hands flew up to his now sparkling face as he squealed happily.

Naturally, you had no way of knowing the ultimate personality of the monsters when they came up. You also never could learn their names. Sure language barrier was a factor, but that was entirely verbal. Surprisingly enough, you both wrote in the same language. Something about you made names impossible, but you couldn‘t tell if it was your magic, your mentor‘s, the location of your house, or what. It probably was for the best though, because you really doubt blue bones was actually named G. As such, the presents couldn‘t truly be personalized. Fortunately, save for a few years, interests appeared to mostly remain the same. You have star stuff, joke stuff, cooking stuff, gardening stuff, car stuff, and a whole bunch of other miscellaneous things wrapped under that tree. Its all with the same wrapping paper, but with some exceptions, the monsters have always been happy to share.

Prepared for this moment, you pick up a book laid next to a table of half eaten milk and cookies. Frisk, knowing child they were had soon entered your sanctuary with most everyone following. The monsters gave pause at sight of what appeared to be their tradition. Taking advantage, you conjured up a bell to capture their attention. Standing on a chair, you waved the bell shouting „Hear ye, Hear ye!“ at them all.

With a snap the blinds closed slightly, and your television turned on, a copy of your book „The Night Before Christmas“ displayed clearly on screen. You asked Frisk if there were any stragglers and they held up an open palm. Slowly, each finger closed down until their pointer was left. With it, they pointed at the skylight where Fish lady came crashing down with Blue Skeleton tied to their back and Gold Godzilla held princess style in their arms. The monsters, well used to such madness just left a circle of space for her to land before returning their curiosity filled gazes at you. Astro boy must‘ve realized the entertainment value and aimed his camera uncomfortably close to your face. Ignoring your clear intrusion of personal space, you cheerfully began to enlighten the race on their first human holiday once again.


End file.
